


In a Straight Line

by missmichellebelle



Series: Through the Kaleidoscope [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pianist, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Making Up, Past Levi/Erwin Smith, Pianist!Levi, Pining Levi, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4766225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi’s never been good at saying sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alas There Came a Knock

**Author's Note:**

> omfg I need to be stopped.
> 
> also, this is the first part with two chapters! I suppose it could have been another one-shot, but it felt appropriate to have a chapter break for this one. natural. I also haven't written the second half yet, so there's also that.
> 
> oh god, last night at like 11pm, I was scribbling in a notebook for a good 45 minutes, writing down like keynotes for things for this verse and omg. this is getting out of control you guys.
> 
> it was super hard not to include TSwift again, but I persevered. this time. 
> 
> (stupid title is stupid. titles are hard guys. it'll make more sense with the next chapter though. x_x)

In the end, Levi only has himself to blame.

He’s cleaning. Mostly because it’s one of the days that Eren is at school and won’t be around for his practice, so he can be a little more flexible with the timing. He can commit to degreasing the oven for an hour without worrying about any insistent knocking or eager faces.

Although, as much as Levi is loathe to admit it, he’s grown accustomed to having Eren around, and the days when he’s too busy with his own life to make an appearance in Levi’s are… Strange.

Levi doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t like being so dependent on Eren’s company, either.

He scrubs the oven even harder.

When there _is_ a sudden, insistent, raucous knocking on his door, Levi is chipping the accumulated ice out of his freezer. He really needs to start doing it weekly, rather than bi-weekly, but it’s one of his least favorite cleaning chores and he isn’t keen on doing it more often than he already does. Levi glares at the inside of his freezer and doesn’t stop working. If he ignores it, maybe whoever it is will go away.

They probably aren’t important, anyway. Levi rarely has visitors.

45 seconds later, the same person knocks again. Levi knows it’s the same person, because the knock is just as obnoxious as it was the first time.

Levi’s brow dips over his eyes as he scowls, still ignoring them.

But then they just start knocking in a constant stream, louder and louder and louder until they must just be banging their fists against Levi’s door and _what the fuck?_ Levi is going to call the fucking police if this keeps up. This has to be some form of fucking harassment.

He rips the gloves from his hands, slapping them with far too much force on the counter and shoveling all of his frozen food back into the only-half-de-iced freezer, before stomping and cursing all the way to the door.

“What?” He yells, nearly yanking the door from its hinges with the force of his pull, and the aggravation is slapped from his face when he sees Eren standing there, gripping a flyer so tightly in his outstretched hand that Levi can’t even tell what it is.

“What the _fuck_ , Levi?” Eren rages, shaking the crumpled paper around in Levi’s face. “What the _fuck_?!”

“Yeah, what the fuck were you doing banging on my door like that?” Levi snarls back, defense mechanisms activating in the wake of Eren’s sudden and inexplicable anger. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I was!” Eren storms past him into the apartment, just pausing to kick off his shoes and leaving them in a pile by the door. Levi glares at them, and then at Eren, slamming the door behind him and ready to order Eren to store his shoes properly or _get the fuck out_ , when Eren turns on him. “I was, and guess what I saw plastered all over one of the announcement boards?” This time, when Eren thrusts his fist out, he waits long enough for Levi to actually extract whatever it is he’s waving about from his hold.

When he manages to smooth out all the wrinkles, he sees his name in block print over a far too artsy shot of a lone piano in a spotlight, with details of a performance listed underneath. He wrinkles his nose. Is this the sort of advertising he’s getting?

“You’re playing at Carnegie Hall next month?” Eren demands, and Levi glances over the top of the paper at him cooly.

“I’ve been playing at Carnegie Hall for the last two weeks,” Levi responds, voice slow and cautious. He gestures at the paper. “Next month I’m doing a special performance for the students, faculty, and alumni for Columbia University. It just also happens to be at Carnegie Hall.”

Eren looks about two seconds away from punching him in the face.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“…that I’m playing at Carnegie Hall?”

Eren growls in frustration. “That you’re _famous_.” Eren’s anger burns like the wick of a candle sometimes, hot and bright and dangerous until it suddenly goes out. His shoulders slump, and the anger is replaced by something else.

Levi knows what it is, but naming it means he has to own up to it, so he stops himself.

“Like.” Eren drags a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that is far too attractive whiles still making Levi’s fingers itch to brush it back into place. “You’re really famous. Not Brad Pitt famous, I guess, but you’re like. The Brad Pitt of classical piano or something.”

Levi can’t help it—he snorts at the comparison. Which he immediately realizes is the wrong thing to do, seeing as it draws Eren’s big, sad, guilt-inducing eyes back on him.

He sighs.

“You could have googled me,” Levi suggests, and Eren’s face skews up.

“ _Google_ you? Really?” The disbelief saturates his voice. “You could have just _told_ me. You know, two months ago, when we _met?_ Instead I had to find out by chance!” Eren turns away and stalks back down the hall towards Levi’s living room, and Levi follows after him, feeling very much like a scolded house pet which makes him frown deeply.

Eren is at the piano when Levi finally forces himself all the way down the hallway, fingers curled over the rim. Levi feels the urge to protest rise in his throat—he just _cleaned_ it that morning, wiping all the finger paints away, and now Eren is messing it all up again.

He says nothing.

“…were you ever planning on telling me?” Eren asks, staring out the balcony doors, voice too quiet. Eren is not a quiet person, and as much as Levi laments his loudness, it feels wrong to hear something that normally takes hold of an entire room diminished to a pinpoint.

“I—” he doesn’t know, if he’s being honest. He always sort of imagined Eren would find out on his own and it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Eren doesn’t care for classical music, after all. Why does it matter to him if he’s been passing four afternoons a week in the Brad Pitt of classical piano’s living room?

When the silence stretches too long, Eren huffs out another sigh.

“What did you think would happen? That I’d take advantage of you?” Eren’s voice is sharp and venomous in a way that Levi has never heard it. It stirs up Levi’s own feelings of antagonism, even though he knows they won’t exactly help this situation. Whatever this situation is. He still doesn’t really see what the big deal is.

“It didn’t seem relevant,” Levi says, dismissively, and Eren’s shoulders tense.

“It didn’t seem relevant,” Eren echoes, and this time his voice echoes, empty and hollow and rooting Levi in place. “You’re right. It’s just your career. Who you are. A part of you. How could that ever be relevant? How could that ever be something that I needed to know?”

“You don’t _need_ to know anything about me,” Levi responds, keeping his voice even, aloof, unconcerned. Eren finally looks at him, and Levi can’t deny what he sees there a second time.

 _Hurt_.

“My life is exactly that—mine. What I choose to tell you is my fucking business, so stop being a child about this.”

Something registers somewhere in Eren. Levi only knows because he’s so open, let’s everything just shine through his skin for the world to see. But even if Levi can tell that Eren has come to some sort of conclusion, there’s no way for him to know exactly what it is.

Their gave holds until Eren drops his head, staring at the floor, bangs shadowing his eyes from few. “So that’s how it is, huh?” His voice is tight, and the second Levi hears it, he knows he fucked up. Somewhere, along the line, he _fucked_ up, and he has no idea where or how to fix it.

Before he has the chance to say anything, Eren is barreling past him and down the hall, stopping just long enough to pick up his shoes but not putting them back on. He escapes out into the hall in just his socks, and Levi watches him go.

A part of him thinks that he should go after Eren, but he reasons that he doesn’t even know what he would say, or do. What good would chasing after him really do?

He just needs time to cool off, and Levi needs time to think.

*

By the fourth afternoon that Eren doesn’t show up to sit in on his practice, Levi starts to think that maybe there’s a little more going on here than he originally thought. He doesn’t stop practicing, and he opens the balcony doors, just as he always used to do—back when Eren was just notes under his door, and disembodied applause. Back when he was an _idea_ more than an actual person.

He plays songs that Eren has requested several times, or the ones he would sing along with. He does it almost unconsciously, and only realizes it when he’s done and there’s no applause.

When there’s no Eren.

On the fourth afternoon, he cleans. If Eren shows up, maybe Levi will play, but otherwise he needs to vacuum the couch and wash the ceiling and figure out why the fuck Eren is _still_ mad at him.

From a logical standpoint, it doesn’t make sense. It’s not like what Levi does for a living changes who he is. He’s still the same person as he was before Eren knew, so what fucking difference does it make? Even if Levi had never told him, the chances of Eren finding out would have been slim. He’s not exactly a person that people recognize on the streets, and Eren probably isn’t going to have any sudden whims to see a classical concert. And it wouldn’t have made a difference.

The biggest change now is that Eren is mad at him, when before, he wasn’t.

Fuck, why had Levi never asked what school Eren attends? If he’d known Eren went to Columbia, he never would have agreed to the performance there, and then Eren never would have found out, and—

Levi stops the vacuum, leaning against it as he stares at the wall.

Maybe he wasn’t telling Eren on purpose.

Maybe he was keeping it from him.

He still doesn’t know _why_ , though.

Levi glances over at where his phone is sitting on the coffee table. He could call Hanji. He is sure they would be absolutely ecstatic to help him sort through… Whatever this is. Levi has never exactly been a pro at recognizing and labeling his own feelings and revelations, but the idea of bringing Hanji in on it in this particular instance is less than enticing.

No. He won’t call them. This is the sort of thing they’d lord over him for years down the line, and he doesn’t want to deal with that shit. Besides, he can figure it out.

His brow pinches together. Probably. He knows the best way to do that would be to put himself in Eren’s position, but he’s never really been good at that. If Levi knew how to be other people, he’d probably do that. As it is, he only knows how to be himself, much to the frustration of everyone around him—most notably those responsible for his musical career. He’s not personal, he lacks any sort of social grace or charisma, and the default expression on his face makes people think he hates them.

Which isn’t necessarily untrue.

So no, that won’t work.

He tries to imagine Eren doing something similar. What if Eren was some sort of famous video game designer? Or something? And Levi hadn’t known. His mouth thins into a line. He can’t see it upsetting him that much, even though it would be odd for Eren not to share it. Eren shares basically everything about himself. Levi’s even tried to dissuade him, assure him that it’s unnecessary to tell Levi _every little thing_ about his day and his life, and Eren just laughs and says, “But that’s what friends do!” and—

Oh.

Oh shit.

And people wonder why Levi doesn’t _have_ friends. He doesn’t exactly know how to go about being one in the first place.

Remorse. That’s what he’s feeling. He fucked up, Eren is mad, and now he has to… Make it up to him? Is that the next step? Levi never really gets that far. Has never given enough of a fuck about another person to ever try and bridge these sort of gaps. Normally, Levi does something that upsets someone else, and that’s basically it. They cut him out of their life and it makes no difference to him, and everybody moves on. End of story.

Levi glances at the empty spot on his couch. Eren’s spot. The thought of never seeing Eren there again makes his chest feel tight, his lungs too small, like there’s not enough air in the room to keep him fully oxygenated.

He’s scooping up his phone before he thinks about it, collapsing onto his piano bench and thumbing through his contacts. He’s never been good at saying sorry.

Levi stares at his phone for a second, and then flips open the lid of his piano, staring down at the familiar sight of the keys he knows so well. They help him feel settled, and he runs his free hand along them, closing his eyes, as if the feel of them alone will calm him down.

The next thing he knows, he’s more or less playing a very simplified version of Darth Vader’s leitmotif from “The Imperial March.” Levi snorts, his _dial_ , and then puts the phone up to his ear, waiting.

“Erwin, I need a favor.”

*

It’s another two days before Levi finds himself on the fourth floor, knocking on every single fucking door because he’s an idiot. In the last week it’s come to light how, even after attempting to get to know Eren, he still knows jack shit about him. Doesn’t know where he goes to school, doesn’t know his phone number or email address, doesn’t know his fucking apartment number. It doesn’t help that he’s not a registered tenant—he can’t exactly go subtly check the mailboxes or intercom listing for a _E. Jaeger_.

The only saving grace is that he knows Eren lives on the same side of the building as he does, which at least cuts out half of his possibilities.

By the time Eren is the one answering the door, Levi is disgruntled, a scowl settled onto his mouth, and a the tension in his shoulders tenfold what it was when he started. He already has to fucking apologize, which he _hates_. Add that to over a dozen unwanted social interactions and Levi is about ten seconds away from committing some sort of violent crime.

“Levi?” Eren asks in surprise, gripping the door with one hand. “What are you doing here?” His eyebrows furrow. “How did you know where I lived?”

“I didn’t.” Levi chooses the easiest question to answer, first. “I just kept knocking on doors until you answered.”

 _Too much honesty_. Levi knows it is by the shock that takes over Eren’s expression.

“I— _why?_ ”

Levi reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, and pulls out two long slips of paper, holding them out to Eren. He takes them without question, looking at them with interest.

“Tickets?”

“To my concert at Carnegie Hall,” Levi elaborates, even though it says as much on the tickets themselves.

“You mean the ones I can get for, like, fifteen bucks at the student center?” Eren asks with a grin, and Levi huffs an annoyed sigh.

“Not tickets that good.”

And he hopes that Eren gets it. That he sees it as the peace offering and apology as it is. Levi doesn’t think he can actually get it out, make his lips form the words.

 _Never been good at saying sorry_.

“There are two,” Eren states obviously. Levi crosses his arms and lifts an eyebrow.

“Yes?” Levi drawls into a question. “Bring someone with you.”

Eren nods, opens his mouth to say something, and then starts laughing. Not _just_ laughing, but full on cracking up. Bent over and supporting himself on the door and everything. Levi just stops himself from taking a step back, afraid to catch whatever strange virus has just inflicted itself upon Eren.

“Sorry,” Eren gasps, wiping under his eyes, and he’s grinning so large that Levi’s pretty sure the next few beats of his heart are audible.

He doesn’t understand how he could miss something like a _smile_ so much after only a handful of days.

How did he let this happen?

“I might be a dick, but I’m not going to get mad at you for laughing,” Levi says around a scowl, and Eren just keeps smiling and shaking his head.

“No, no, it’s just that—I was about to invite _you_ , because I forgot that you—” Eren makes a miming motion with his hands, that Levi realizes is a bastardized way to indicate playing the piano. “I’m going to _see_ you play,” Eren deduces, as if he’s just realizing the fact, and Levi _tchs_ in the back of his throat.

“Idiot. You see me play all the time.”

“Yeah, but this is… It’s different, you know?” The look Eren gives him begs to be understood, so Levi inclines his head ever so slightly, even if he doesn’t get it. He wishes there was a way to explain how much people would pay to get what Eren does—private performances. They’re one of the only things that Levi outright refuses to do. He’s not good enough with people for those sorts of close quarters. “Oh shit, I’ve never been to a concert like this. What do I wear?” His eyes widen in panic, and Levi can’t help but smile a little bit.

 _I missed you, you brat_.

“Something nice.”

Eren glares at him. _Obviously_ , it says.

With what needed to be done done, Levi turns to go without another word, when he feels Eren’s hand close around his upper arm. The touch is too hot, and while Levi’s normal reaction would be to recoil, the warmth draws him in.

“Hey, Levi—”

He doesn’t glance back, and feels Eren’s fingers tighten before releasing him. He suddenly feels cold all over.

“—thanks.”

Levi nods.

“No need to thank me.” He takes one step, pauses, and then turns his head ever so slightly. Not so much that he can see Eren, but so that Eren’s at least aware that he’s still speaking to him. “If you ever want to see me perform, just… Let me know.”

“I will.”

When did Levi start hearing Eren’s smiles in his voice?

“Oh, and Eren?” He’s still at his door as Levi steps onto the elevator, and they lock eyes one more time. “Don’t be late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [read, reblog, & like on tumblr](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/128740909670/in-a-straight-line)
> 
>  
> 
> *I realize that there's an AO3 feed for Ereri fics on tumblr, but it would mean a lot to me if you would reblog my post instead of the generated one on that blog. I like to snoop on your tags okay. :*


	2. For Eren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit, did he just possibly throw his career away for _Eren?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, an entire installment in this verse without any actual piano playing? whoops. didn't mean for _that_ to happen.  >A>;;
> 
> I was going to say this will probably be the last piece in this verse for awhile, because I'm not ready to give up all this slow burn goodness, but I don't have any other ideas quite yet so. we'll see. maybe one will come to me. c:
> 
> the title of this fic comes from OneRepublic's "All This Time," which is also the song that Levi plays for his encore (which is not actually in the fic, but if you want to hear the piano cover I listened to while writing this, it's [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWTISdaP-sc)). also that song has lovely lyrics but none of them make good fic titles. NONE OF THEM.
> 
>  
> 
> _straight in a straight line, running back to you..._

For the first time in at least eight years, Levi is nervous as he walks to the backstage area after his show. Not since the days of interviews that always abruptly followed his performance, or of waiting on the edge of a night for whether or not his new management team would drop him, has Levi felt this sort of tension in his shoulders, having him clenching his fists in a way that is immensely uncomfortable after such rigorous playing.

All because of some stupid kid.

He stretches his fingers, and then focuses on pressing the cuffs of his dress shirt neatly above his elbow. Levi doesn’t do the suit-and-tie thing for the performances that are intrinsically his—only the big ones, the once-in-a-lifetime ones, require Levi to wear suits. He can begrudge the tradition, then.

His gig at Carnegie Hall is a three week arrangement, and he plays the same set every single night. He plays all the classics—Beethoven, Liszt, Chopin, Tchaiovsky. Those are the composers people go to hear when they see a concert pianist. Friday nights, he plays his own music, mixed in with more modern composers of his choice. That set list changes, and is one he writes and rewrites all throughout the week until he’s happy with it. Despite how little he likes his own compositions, the freedom that comes with those concerts is undeniable.

Then, of course, there’s the encore.

Levi only ever plays the one song, but it’s always different, and he never plans it. When the curtain rises, he closes his eyes and just _plays_.

But tonight had been a “special event” for Columbia University. His setlist had been a mix between his own pieces, classical composers, and the more modern ones he prefers. But on top of that, Levi had tweaked things beyond his selection of songs, the ones that are neatly printed in hundreds upon hundreds of programs. He doesn’t generally play covers, but he’d found himself mixing in pieces from certain songs he’s accumulated over the last few months, putting melodies and call-backs in places they simply don’t belong.

Levi’s heart had pounded the entire time, full of adrenaline, of the fear of fucking everything all up on the whim of being a little spontaneous, of taking the songs he was so used to playing, over and over and over and over, and changing them up a little bit.

He thinks of how he fucking played a few bars of _Heart and fucking Soul_ at one of his concerts and nearly turns around and leaves the building and the state and the country entirely. Fuck, it’s one thing for him to do this sort of shit in the privacy of his apartment, but on a stage? In front of critics and cameras and who knows what else?

Shit, did he just possibly throw his career away for _Eren?_

“Levi!”

Speak of the fucking devil.

He looks so out of place here, in Levi’s world, in the dim light of backstage as employees bustle around. Levi tilts his chin in acknowledgement before he’s pulled aside by… Someone. They introduce themselves, but Levi isn’t listening, forced into a situation where he has to make polite conversation and reverts to the responses that have been programmed into him after this many years into his career.

His eyes keep flicking over to where he knows Eren is, standing unassumingly among the many Important People that must speak with Levi. He has a friend with him—male, blond, unfortunate hair cut—and Levi wonders who it is.

Eren catches his eye and grins widely.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Levi interrupts, and the older gentleman that had been speaking at him splutters and nods, shaking his hand a little too vigorously. Erwin is going to be furious with him for snubbing what must be a number of influential people, but, well. That’s what Erwin is for. Levi is just there to play the music, not to schmooze people. That’s never been his thing.

As Levi draws closer to Eren, winding through those around him and dodging any attempts at conversation, he notices. He tugs enthusiastically on the sleeve of his plus one, who turns to stare at Levi with wide, terrified blue eyes.

He looks like he might throw up.

“Oh my god, Levi.” Eren’s enthusiasm gushes off of him in waves, and his energy is so different from everyone else around them that Levi finds comfort in it. A familiarity, because this is _Eren_ , and he’s always this way.

Levi wants to move closer to it, like a freezing man seeking warmth from a fire.

“That was incredible. I know you’re always saying how the acoustics in your apartment are crappy, and I always thought you were just being picky, but _holy shit_ , you were right.” Eren’s mouth is moving a mile a minute, and Levi can’t stop looking at him. At how he’s styled his hair, at his dress shirt and skinny tie, at the way he’s suddenly gripping into Levi’s wrist with both hands like some sort of tether.

“ _Eren_.”

Levi’s attention shifts to the blond stranger, expression blank, and the sudden attention makes him still with fear.

“Oh, Levi, this is Armin—Armin, this is Levi,” Eren introduces far later than he should have, but Levi’s manners aren’t exactly excellent, so he doesn’t mind.

“I know who he is, Eren, god,” Armin mumbles, and he shifts uncomfortably under Levi’s gaze. It’s amusing.

“Your boyfriend?” _Holy fucking shit_. Where did that question even come from? Levi keeps his face neutral, but he wouldn’t mind if there was a sudden earthquake that tore a chasm through New York so that he might just get swallowed up by it.

Eren looks surprised by the question, but not… Offended. Sexuality isn’t exactly something they discuss over tea, and Levi doesn’t know why he would blurt something like _that_ out.

It’s not like he wants to know if Eren is interested in men.

(Or… Wait, fuck, _does he?_ )

“Oh, no. No. Armin’s my best friend. I, uh.” Eren glances away, ruffling up his nicely styled hair and looking far more like the Eren that Levi is accustomed to seeing. “I don’t have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. All single.” Eren’s voice has gone strangely higher than it usually is. “Super, super single.”

Armin—the best friend—is staring at Eren with a very concentrated look on his face, almost like he’s trying to dissect his behavior.

“Ah,” Levi answers simply, and has the urge to rub at his chest where his heart is pounding against his ribs. “I thought you would bring your sister.”

“Oh.” Eren blinks owlishly, shoots Armin a look, and then shrugs, laughing oddly. “No, no. She was, uh. Busy. You know how it is. Maybe next time?” Once again, Armin is staring at Eren like he’s some sort of puzzle, and Levi can’t help but find it incredibly intriguing. “But Armin here.” Eren’s hand lands on the blond’s shoulder, and Armin jolts in surprise. “He’s a _huge_ fan of yours.”

“Is he now?” Levi quirks an eyebrow, glancing at Armin just in time to see him shoot an annoyed glare at Levi.

“Yep.” Eren pops his _p_. “He has, like, all of your albums. He even brought one with him.”

“ _Eren!_ ” Armin scolds him, ears red with embarrassment, and Levi hides a smile behind his hand, drumming his fingers against his upper lip. It’s amusing, the way Eren so easily turns the subject away from himself.

“I hope he brought something for me to write with, too. I don’t generally carry pens or markers with me at a performance.” Levi methodically pats the nonexistent pockets on his dress slacks, while Armin’s mouth drops open and Eren grins. Almost immediately, Armin is digging into his coat, pulling out a black sharpie and a CD case, hands shaking as he holds them out.

“Told you he was cool,” Eren says lowly out of the side of his mouth as Levi takes the proffered items.

As he’s uncapping the marker, careful about not getting the ink anywhere near his fingertips, he can’t help but ponder that statement. _Eren thinks I’m cool?_

The thought pleases him more than it should.

“Do my eyes deceive me or are you _signing one of your CDs_ , Levi?”

Levi groans on the inside, mouth thinning into a tight line as he hands the thing back to Armin, turning his gaze to the tall man that’s come up beside him.

“Erwin,” Levi greets, and the Erwin grins down at him in response.

Erwin had been the one to discover him all those years ago. He came from a family of money, and had acquired some sort of business degree that he decided to lend to his many passions. One of them just so happened to be music. He’s the founder of Levi’s current label, LEGION, and Levi had been one of the first musicians they’d recruited. Back then, Erwin had been everything—his manager, his producer, his publicist. And while the company has grown immensely in the last decade, Levi knows he still handles much of Levi’s career personally.

Even after everything.

Armin is staring up at Erwin with a hint of recognition—seriously, does this kid know fucking _everyone?_ —while he clutches his newly autographed CD to his chest, but Eren’s expression is the one that catches his attention. He looks strangely guarded, eyes sizing Erwin up like a predator analyzing his prey.

Which is funny, only because of how fucking huge Erwin is.

“Doesn’t like to get the ink on his fingers,” Erwin explains, wiggling his own fingertips, and Levi makes a clicking noise in his mouth but doesn’t contradict him. After all, he isn’t wrong. “So are these the two you requested tickets for?” Erwin asks him, eyes bright with interest, and Levi scowls at him. “I thought so, seeing as you’ve ignored all your donators and admirers to speak to them alone. I’ve never seen you show such initiative.”

Levi is going to kill him. If he keeps smirking like that, Levi is literally going to slam Erwin’s handsome face under the lid of his piano and leave him there to rot.

“In fact, did you both know—”

“I’m sorry,” Eren butts in, and Levi has never been grateful. He’s not sure what Erwin was about to tell them, but he is happy to never find out. Why the fuck had he asked _Erwin_ for tickets? He literally could have asked anyone else and not had to deal with Erwin being a nosy bastard. What the hell had he been thinking?

(That Eren was upset, and it was his fault.)

“Who are you?” Eren asks, and the question actually makes Levi turn his head away, hiding the amused smile that’s threatening to break out. Erwin might not be the one playing the music, but his is still a face that everyone recognizes in some capacity. LEGION isn’t his only claim to fame, after all.

“Eren, that’s—“ Armin starts, his voice high. He looks embarrassed to be seen with Eren.

“Are you Levi’s boyfriend?”

Their entire circle goes quiet, and Erwin’s already barely contained interest blooms in full across his face. Armin has buried his face in his hands and is groaning, and Levi just stares at Eren because he’s not paying attention. Eren’s full attention is on Erwin, something determined in his eyes, something challenging, something… Angry? Why the fuck would Eren be angry.

“Interesting,” Erwin hums, and then smiles. “No. I’m Levi’s…” he side glances at Levi, who shrugs. It’s hard to exactly put a title on what Erwin is for him these days, both professionally and otherwise. “I suppose manager would be the best word for it,” he explains. Then his gaze shifts to Levi again, and this time his smile is tinged with a hint of melancholy. “In another life, maybe.”

Levi _tchs_ , and looks away, crossing his arms.

He doesn’t want to be reminded of when he was young, and hopeful, and stupid.

“Erwin Smith,” he officially introduces himself, and Armin looks like he wets himself as he shakes Erwin’s hand. Eren looks a little embarrassed, but still shakes Erwin’s hand with caution, like it’s some sort of trick.

“Mr. Smith is also the CEO of Mr. Ackerman’s label, LEGION,” Armin explains to Eren, who nods an then makes a face.

“What?” Levi snaps, recognizing the snorting laughter that Eren is holding in.

“Nothing, it’s just…” he shakes his head, and grin, and a bit of the laughter slips out in his voice. “ _Mr. Ackerman_. I’ve never heard anyone call you that.”

Levi sighs and shakes his head, and Erwin watches him. The fucker sees everything, so Levi knows the hint of a smile that he couldn’t keep at bay didn’t go unnoticed.

“Levi,” Erwin says, and Levi tenses. “Aren’t you going to finish the introductions?”

“They’re both grown ass men,” Levi responds with a roll of his eyes. “They can introduce themselves if they want to.”

“Oh, oh, right,” Armin mutters, as if he can’t believe he forgot that part while shaking Erwin’s hand. “Armin Arlert, and this is Eren Jaeger, sir.”

 _Sir_ , Levi mimics. As if they need to be blowing Erwin’s ego up any more.

Eren elbows Armin in the side, and Armin glares at him.

“You know, I was beginning to wonder where Levi was getting all of his pop culture influence. I’m assuming that’s your doing, Eren?”

Levi wishes he could get away with elbowing Erwin. As it is, he settles for sending him murderous looks that promise some sort of violent follow-up later.

“Huh?” Eren looks positively bewildered by the question.

“At every one of Levi’s performances for the last few months, he’s one some pop cover for his encore. It’s very unlike him. Like tonight, Levi, what song was that?” Erwin turns to look at him, and if Levi’s arms weren’t already crossed, he would cross them again. Instead, he just kept his gaze away and remained silent.

“ ‘All This Time’ by OneRepublic,” Eren answers, automatically, and everyone turns to look at him. Armin has that calculating look on his face again, and Levi doesn’t even want to know what sort of connections Erwin is making and doesn’t care to look.

But Eren is looking at him, and Levi looks back, and his throat feels tight.

“Right?” Eren tips his head to the side. “I asked you for a OneRepublic song, like, a week ago, but you didn’t know any.”

“What?” Armin and Erwin ask almost simultaneously, and Levi has the urge to clap his hand over Eren’s mouth.

“I, uh.” Eren looks like a deer in headlights as his eyes bounce from Armin to Erwin. “I sit in on Levi’s practices almost every afternoon, and sometimes I request things and he plays them.”

“Does he now?” Erwin turns to Levi, and Levi swears to fucking god, it’s like a shark smelling blood in the water. No wonder him and Hanji get along so splendidly. They both live for Levi’s misfortune.

“Erwin,” Levi interrupts immediately, arresting everybody’s attention. “Can I talk to you a second about whatever shit head they had tune the piano?” He gives Erwin a significant look, and Erwin grins at him but nods.

“Of course. If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen.” Erwin escorts Levi away with a hand pressed between Levi’s shoulder blades, with not another word exchanged, and for that, Levi is grateful.

“He’s shorter than I thought he’d be,” Armin says in a low voice once he thinks Levi and Erwin are out of earshot (they aren’t).

“He’s not that short,” Eren shoots back, defensively, and Levi let’s himself grin a little bit at that.

“Eren…” Armin’s voice sounds concerned, and warning. “Have you—” the rest of the sentence is swallowed up by the crowd, and Levi finds himself curious to the ending.

“He’s young,” Erwin says out of the corner of his mouth as he waves and smiles at the people they pass by.

“So was I.”

Erwin shoots him a look, frowning slightly.

“And that story has such a happy ending?” Erwin’s voice dips, low and serious, and Levi just grunts. No. It doesn’t. Maybe he should take that as the warning or deterrent or whatever the fuck it is. After all, people aren’t supposed to repeat the past, right?

“It’s different,” Levi insists, anyway, and Erwin hums.

“Maybe.” His hand curls over Levi’s shoulder and squeezes. “It makes me happy to see you enjoying your work again, though. Even if I don’t quite agree with all of his influences.” Erwin chuckles deeply. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you slip a piece of Nicki Minaj’s “Starships” into your rendition of Liszt’s “La Campanella.” You realize you just performed classical music sacrilege, right?”

Levi huffs, and Erwin laughs again.

*

Levi finds himself feeling strangely exhausted the next day. For once, he’s thankful for the night off, that he can spend a few hours without a performance looming on his brain, and his fingers are grateful for the rest. His joints ache, and he’s looking forward to the end of his current run. His hands could use a week or two of reprieve.

Not that they’ll really rest. He can’t stop practicing, after all.

This is as close to rest as Levi gets. A cup of tea, mindless television, and methodically rubbing at his joints as he zones out. Even now, his head is full of music, but he doesn’t worry about it. If he took down every note that flew through his head, he would probably be one of the most prolific composers of their time.

It’s a good thing he has no interest in being a composer.

Like clockwork, there’s a knock at Levi’s door in the early afternoon. It’s a little clumsy, but as Levi hauls himself to the door, he knows there’s no one else it could be. Eren hasn’t been by for one of his practices since before he found out about Levi’s fame, and now, of all days, the idea of practicing makes Levi feel wary.

He’ll do it—slacking in his practices is just one way to sink the entire career he’s built—but he’ll keep it to mindless practice pieces. Hopefully Eren won’t be too disappointed.

Levi doesn’t take the fact that Eren showed up at his performance, and is at his door now, lightly. His apology had been roundabout and wordless, but it seems Eren had taken and accepted it for what it was.

He finds himself wishing that Eren was as good at reading all of Levi’s other wordless declarations.

When he opens the door, Eren is standing there with the biggest shit-eating grin Levi has ever seen on his face, and an armful of CDs. Literally an armful. Levi isn’t quite sure how he’s holding all of them, and wonders why he insisted on carrying them in a stupid jumbled mess over stacking them.

“What is that?” Levi asks, stepping back as Eren barrels forward, walking quickly so he can dump all the jewel cases on the couch.

“This—” Levi gestures to the pile with a flourish of his wrist, “—is every CD that features you in some capacity.”

_He fucking didn’t._

“There’s your own albums, of course, and then there’s compilations. I even bought this weird indie movie soundtrack because apparently you did the song for the trailer?”

 _He did_.

“How the fuck do you even know that?” Levi asks in shock. That was _years_ ago, and he hadn’t even known his song was going to be on the fucking thing. That was one of Erwin’s sneaky little things, where he did shit on Levi’s behalf. It’s always worked in his favor, granted, but that doesn’t mean Levi has to fucking like it. It’s his music, after all.

Eren’s grin grows impossibly larger, and Levi is pretty sure his heart swells or some shit that requires immediate medical attention.

“I googled you.”

And Levi laughs. He can’t help it. It shoots out of him, just once, a barking sound, and Eren looks so startled and amazed by it that Levi immediately feels embarrassed by the sound. He presses his hand to his mouth and gazes at his wall, unable to meet the awe that is for some reason filling up Eren’s eyes.

“Um.” Eloquent. “Why did you bring them all here?”

Eren scoffs. “To have you sign them, of course. I mean, I have to milk being friends with a famous pianist in anyway I can, right?”

“And why should I do that?” Levi asks, settling on the couch beside the pile. It’s alarmingly large. Is he really on every single one of these? “What’s in it for me?”

Eren settles on the opposite side of the pile, holding out a permanent marker and… A latex glove?

 _Doesn’t like to get the ink on his fingers_.

The back of Levi’s neck suddenly feels hot.

“The pleasure of my company, of course.” Eren is joking, but there’s also something sincere in his smile. Something looking for validation.

Levi heaves out a put-upon sigh and snaps the glove on his hand, uncapping the marker carefully and picking up the first CD without another word.

After all, if he opens his mouth, he’ll say something stupid about how this exchange isn’t at all even or fair. How his entire collection of published works is nowhere near as valuable as Eren’s company.

Instead, he writes, _For Eren_ , in his loopy script before autographing his name. Over and over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [read, reblog, & like on tumblr](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/128873641940/in-a-straight-line)


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